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HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO., 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


THE    INVERTED    TORCH 


BY 

EDITH    M.  THOMAS 


BOSTON    AND   NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1890, 
BY  EDITU  M.  THOMAS. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  IL  0.  Houghton  &  Company. 


To 

N.  T.  M.  AND  S.  F.  G. 

MY  SISTER  AND   MY   FRIEND. 

Faces  wherein  last  shone  the  sinking1  light  — 
Hearts  that  throbbed  nearest  mine    in  the   new 

night  — 

Cherish  these  leaves  by  lonely  memory  traced 
While   faint   hope   starred   the   wide   surrounding- 
waste. 


335968 


/  dreamed  that  in  thy  hollowed  palm 
Thou  heldst  some  measure  of  gray  sand, 
And  pouring  it  from  hand  to  hand 
Still  with  a  seer's  inspection  calm 
Thine  eye  the  sliding  atoms  scanned. 

The  greater  part  thou  didst  let  pass 
And  only  here  and  there  retain 
Some  quick-discerned  and  precious  grain 
These  all  were  closed  within  a  glass. 
And  ran  a  wonder-lighted  vein. 

Then  with  a  vision's  silent  grace 
Thou  gavest  me  the  glass  to  mark 
All  coming  hours  or  bright  or  dark  ; 
But  ivith  the  gift  dissolved  thy  face,. 
A  fading  light  within  its  place. 

I  wake  not  all  from  out  that  dream : 
Mine  hours,  if  bright  or  dark  they  be, 
Seem  noted  ever,  as  they  Jlee, 
By  that  smooth-gliding  magic  stream 
From  the  dull  drift  withdrawn  by  thee. 


CONTENTS 


I.  TEMPLA  QTTAM  DILECTA.  PAOB 

I.  Ah,  what  so  mightless  as  their  state      ...  7 

II.  Beholding  how  immutable,  august    ....  8 

III.  When  in  the  first  great  hour  of  sleep  supreme  9 

IV.  Then  in  that  loneliest  night  of  nights     ...  10 
Y.  Still-charmed  by  that  so-seeming   deathless 

guise 11 

VI.  I  sought  thine  empty  chamber,  closed  the 

door 12 

VII.  Once  from   the  crisping  pain  and  constant 

throe 13 

VIII.  Thou  hadst  not  slept  an  hour  of  that  last  sleep  14 

IX.  In  that  first  hour  !    Oh,  poignant  stroke     .  16 

X.  I  traveled  far  into  the  wilderness 17 

XI.  Tell  me,  is  there  sovereign  cure 18 

XII.  Sometimes  in  musings  that  grow  quick  and 

keen 19 

XIII.  When  from  this  distance  I  survey  the  past     .  20 

XIV.  On  the  day  of  earth  thy  last 21 

XV.  They  bid  me  think,  who  seek  to  close  my 

wound 22 

XVI.  Time  takes  no  toll  of  thee 23 

XVII.  How  dost  thou  live  in  that  Life  out  of  thought, 

unencumbered  and  blest 25 

XVIII.  If  I  might  have  from  thee  what  boon  I  would  27 

XIX.  Sleep  soundly  through  the  long  light  night      .  28 
II.  CLARIOR  B  TENEBEIS. 

XX.  Love  for  the  lover  the  worn  world  renews      .  31 

XXI.  Me,  in  the  darkness  lying  faint  and  low      .    .  32 


viii  CONTENTS 

XXII.  Now,  more  and  more  my  heritage  I  learn   33 

XXIII.  Now  I  see,  that  careless  went      ....  34 

XXIV.  Day  by  day  the  soul  of  things     ....  37 
XXV.  Last  time  I  saw  thy  mortal  resting-place    38 

XXVI.  Now  is  the  waking  time  of  earliest  bloom  39 
XXVII.  In  thine  own  garden  (now  a  wild  un- 

trimmed) 40 

XXVIII.  Last  summer  like  a  jewel  lies      ....  41 
XXIX.  I  once  besought  thee  that  thou  wouldst 

return 42 

XXX.  Sometimes  long  dwelling  on  thy  blessed 

face 43 

XXXI.  All  passions  that  have  birth 44 

XXXII.  Not  that  henceforth  no  more  they  share  .  4(3 

XXXIII.  How  long  ago,  how  long  ago,  0  Grief  .    .  47 
III.  OPTIMI  CONSILIARII  MOBTUI. 

XXXIV.  How  on  the  moment  all  changes      ...  51 
XXXV.  Subtle-swift  recognizance 52 

XXXVI.  I  left  the  home  whence  thou  before  hadst 

passed 53 

XXXVII.  How  often  have  I  watched  the  winter 

moon 54 

XXXVIII.  Two  powers  the  passive  giant  deep  con 
trol      55 

XXXIX.  Withdrawing  these  crystalline  drinkers  of 

sunshine  into  the  dark 5C 

XL.  Some  words  of  thine  when  words  of  thine 

were  few 57 

XLI.  Dearest  lips  that  Time  hath  stilled       .     .  58 
XLJI.  Hadst  thou  not  prescience  of  my  days  to 

be GO 

XLIII.  In  little  years,  from  dreams  of  evil  guise    62 
XLIV.  I  come  to  a  certain  realm  in  the  Past  .     .  63 
XLV.  Two  words,  upon  the  lips  grown  obsolete   64 
XLVI.  In  thy  withdrawal  from  the    near  and 

known 65 

XLVII.  Thou  wast  a  confidant,  a  refuge,  still  .     .  GO 
XLVIII.  When  fair  days  fall  and  fruiting  hopes  re 
pay  G7 


CONTENTS  ix 

XLIX.  It  is  the  lover's  vaunt  that  he  transcends    .  68 
L.  Or  is  that  love,  as  once,  still  round  me  poured  69 

LI.  Whence  this  revelation  wide 70 

LII.  Foregone  to  sight,  to  every  sense  denied     .  71 
IV.  C<ELTJM  NON  ANIMAM  MUTANT. 

LIII.  If  still  they  live,  whom  touch  nor  sight  .  .  75 
LIV.  Hath  God  new  realms  of  lovely  life  for  thee  76 
LV.  Thou  hadst  a  joy  in  storms  that  sealike  surge  77 
LVI.  In  those  last  splendor  -  freighted  autumn 

days 78 

LVII.  Once,  looking  on  the  grass  in  summer  deep    79 
LVIII.  Though  Life's  tide  ebbed  or  flowed  beneath 

my  eyes 80 

LIX.  Once  I  sat  down  beside  a  seaward  stream    .  81 

LX.  Oft  will  this  thought  my  current  day  arrest  82 

LXI.  Some  days  there  were  whose  dawns  but  lit .  83 

LXII.  Then  speaking,  this  had  been  my  cry  .    .     .84 

LXIII.  How  dare  we  say,  who  live  by  breath      .     .  85 

LXIV.  I  speak  what  springeth  in  my  soul  to-day    .  87 

LXV.  I  could  not  bear  thy  name  should  have  no 

part 88 

LXVI.  Oh,  that  thou  hadst  but  crossed  some  ut- 


LXVII.  I  know  not  why  henceforward  I  should  fear  91 
LXVIII.  "  Upon  the  earth  my  child  !  "  —  "  My  moth 
er,  thou 92 

LXIX.  Oft  have  I  wakened  ere  the  spring  of  day    .  92 
LXX.  Threading  a  darksome  passage  all  alone  .    .  94 


I. 

TEMPLA  QUAM  DILECTA 


THE  INVERTED  TORCH 


AH,  what  so  mightless  as  their  state, 
Enfolded  in  the  all-night's  sleep,  — 

Sleep  without  dream  or  date  ! 
Ah,  what  so  mightless  as  their  state  ? 
Yet  strange  regality  they  keep, 

As  on  the  dim  hours  sweep* 

Ah,  what  so  vacant  as  their  state, 
Wherein  nor  wish  nor  thought  inheres, 

Nor  charge  of  small  or  great ! 
Ah,  what  so  vacant  as  their  state  ? 
Yet  seem  they  vision-guarding  seers 

Of  the  unmeasured  years. 

Most  unappealable  those  brows, 
Those  lips,  those  ears,  that  never  failedL 


;  TRE  fXV£Pr£D  TORCH 

To  our  warm  prayers  and  vows  ; 
Most  unappealable  those  brows 
That  kindred  sovereignty  have  hailed, 

Yet  from  our  knowledge  veiled. 

They  are  no  longer  of  our  time, 
But  to  the  eldest  dead  allied, 

In  mien  estranged,  sublime. 
O  God  I  they  are  not  of  our  time  ; 
So  looked  the  first  of  those  that  died,  • 

So  rapt,  so  glorified  ! 


II. 


BEHOLDING  how  immutable,  august, 
Looked  that  which  was  doomed  downward 

to  the  dust, 

As  though  mortality  itself  had  won 
Long  immortality  beneath  the  sun  — 
I  could  not  understand  ! 
For  when  some    roof-tree  built   by  human 

hand 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  9 

Loses  its  brood,  all  round  dejection  reigns, 
A  wistful  blindness  dims  the  window-panes, 
And  the  whole  mansionry  goes  down  apace. 
But  when  the  swift  soul  leaves  her  earthly 

place, 

Doth  the  poor  body  her  great  joy  divine, 
And  transiently  with  her  exultance  shine  ? 


III. 

WHEN  in  the  first  great  hour  of  sleep  su 
preme 

I  saw  my  Dearest  fair  and  tranquil  lie, 
Swift  ran  through  all  my  soul  this  wonder- 
cry  : 
"  How  hast  thou  met  and  vanquished  hate 

extreme !  " 
For  by  thy  faint  white  smiling  thou  didst 

seem, 

Sweet  Magnanimity  !  to  half  defy, 
Half  pity,  those  ill  things  thou  hadst  put  by, 
That  are  the   haunters    of   our   life's   dim 
dream. 


10  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

Pain,  error,  grief,  and  fear  —  poor  shadows 

all, 
I,  to  thy  triumph  caught,  saw  fail  and  fade. 

Yet  as  some  muser,  when  the  embers  fall, 
The  low  lamp  flickers  out,  starts  up  dismayed, 
So  I  awoke,  to  find  me  still  Time's  thrall, 
Time's  sport,  —  nor  by  thy  warm  safe  pre 
sence  stayed. 


IV. 

THEN  in  that  loneliest  night  of  nights 
I  looked  unto  those  ancient  lights, 
The  myriad,  the  lidless  eyes 
Whereunder  earth  all  naked  lies,  — 
The  stars  I  sought,  if  still  they  lent 
To  my  appeal  their  dear  consent,  — 
Immortal  is  man's  soul ! 

But  in  that  loneliest  night  of  nights, 
All  unintelligent,  those  lights 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  11 

(As  gems  that  shone  bright  and  aloof 
Within  a  vast  world-cavern's  roof) 
A  hedge  of  lancing  splendors  wove, 
And  back  the  old  entreaty  drove,  — 
Immortal  is  marts  soul  ? 


V. 


STILL-CHARMED  by  that   so-seeming  death 
less  guise 

The  Soul's  late-left  and  silent  Temple  kept, 
It  was  as  if  a  dateless  cycle  swept 
Past  me  and  past  that  grace  which  held  my 

eyes,  — 

As  if  all  breathing  life  beneath  the  skies 
For  sympathy  death-sleep  inviolate  slept. 
But  through  the  stillness  gradually  there 

crept 

Two  sounds  insistent,  waking  dull  surprise  : 
One  sound   the  voice   of  children  at   their 

play, 

And  one  the  ringing  anvil.      "Mirth   and 
Toil, 


12  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

Of  Grief  unmindful,  keep  their  beaten  way." 
So  first  I  thought;  but  then,   "The   Fate- 
wove  coil 

Spares  none  of  earth ;  this  is  my  bitter  day, 
And   later   they  must  feel   Time's  wanton 
spoil." 


VI. 


I  SOUGHT  thine  empty  chamber,  closed  the 

door, 

And  strove  to  know  thine  absence  absolute. 
In   vain!     Not   yet   seemed   Echo   wholly 

mute 

To  thy  soft,  slow,  weak  footfall  on  the  floor ; 
And  all  I  touched  or  looked  upon  still  bore 
Thy  touches  vital,  keen,  beyond  compute. 
Then  did  my  ranging  eye  in  dull  pursuit 
Mark  the  clear  sunlight  through  the  window 

pour: 

Oh,  then,  upon  that  tide  of  airy  gold 
(That  oft  had  crowned  thy  silvering  locks 

with  light) 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  13 

Revealment  suddenly  upon  me  rolled  : 
Eternal  days,  eternal  days,  all  bright, 
All  void,  all  waste,  as  this  must  I  behold, 
Nor  thou  nor  sign  from  thee  make  glad  my 
sight ! 

VII. 

ONCE  from  the  crisping  pain  and  constant 

throe 

(As  bath  of  fire  around  thee  day  and  night), 
Thou  criedst  aloud,  thy  sweet  lips  tense  and 

white, 

If 't  is  some  spirit  power  pursues  me  so, 
/  shall  myself  be  spirit  soon  and  go 
To  meet  and  question  it  with  spirit  might. 
Then  sank'st  thou  back  to  thine  old  patient 

plight 
And  thoughts  that  only  passing  souls  may 

know. 

Now  evermore  in  me  desire  grows  keen 
To  learn  of  thy  soul's  speeding,  —  if  thou 
met 


14  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

Some  blank  All-Silent,  or  if  thou  dost  lean 
On  some  All-Pitiful,  not  mindful  yet, 
So  wrapped  in  new-found  ease  and  joy  se 
rene, 

To   search  why  life   must  pay  such  heavy 
debt. 

VIII. 


"  Some  lost  Lady  of  old  years 
With  her  beauteous  vain  endeavor, 
And  goodness  unrepaid  as  ever, 
The  face  accustomed  to  refusings. 

And  so  she  glides  as  down  a  valley, 
Taking  up  with  her  contempt, 
Past  our  reach,  and  in,  the  flowers 
Shut  her  unregarded  hours." 

THOU  hadst  not  slept  an  hour  of  that  last 

sleep 
When  my  soul  woke  to  know  what  it  had 

lost, 
And  met  the  shining  face  of  what  thou  wast, 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  15 

Whom  time  can  touch  no  more,  nor  earth 
can  keep. 

Thine  eyes  with  love  upfilled,  unfathomed 
deep ! 

Thine  eyes  reproachless  still !  —  ah,  there 
fore  most 

My  soul  did  with  reproach  itself  accost, 

And  bid  mine  eyes  to  ache  for  grief,  not 
weep. 

Thou,  grateful-glad  of  every  gladding  thing, 
Love's  least  return,  and  each  white  truce  to 

care  ! 
For   this   my  soul   did   lodge  the  sharpest 

sting,  — 
Because   thou  hadst   of  these   such   lenten 

share. 

But  thou  departedst,  unremembering, 
A  smiling  vanisher  in  griefless  light  and  air. 


It)  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 


IX. 

IN  that  first  hour  !     Oh,  poignant  stroke 

Of  all-invasive  Light 
That  searched  my  spirit  out,  and  woke 

To  clear  discerning  sight ! 

Thy  life  and  mine  before  me  swept : 

Mine,  dry  with  selfish  need  ; 
Thine,  beautiful,  a  fountain  leapt, 

Blessing  with  selfless  deed. 

Beneath  me  and  around  me  gaped 

A  chasm  of  torment  fierce ; 
Where  scourge  and  rack  were  dimly  shaped, 

But  no  sweet  light  could  pierce : 

No  word  to  ply  between  us  twain, 

No  clasping  of  the  knees, 
No  heart-throe  loosing  tearful  rain 

That  brings  a  taste  of  ease ! 


THE  INVERTED  TORCH  17 

At  last,  didst  not  thou  intervene, 

And  soft  oblivion  strow  ? 
For  since  that  hour  I  have  not  known 

Such  gulfing  deep  of  woe. 


X. 


I  TRAVELED  far  into  the  wilderness, 

And  found  a  spacious  country  choked  with 

dust ; 

The  cloven  hillsides  gaped  all  fountainless, 
The  crisped  forests  showed  as  red  as  rust. 

In  all  the  land   no  green  plant  reared   its 

head  ; 

A  plain  of  dust  the  sultry  sky  did  seem ; 
Along  the  river's  void  and  silent  bed 
The  hot  air  rippled  like  a  phantom  stream. 

A  Voice  sprang  up,  than   crackling   flame 

more  fine, 
And    quivered   through  the  waste,  "What 

dost  thou  here, 


18  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

Within   this   realm   o'erswayed   by  powers 

malign,  — 
This  Land  where  None  hath   ever  shed  a 

Tear? 

"  What  dost  thou  hope  ?     If  any  one  might 

weep, 
Then  would  the  rain  descend  in  fostering 

showers, 
The   stream  along  its  crannied   bed  would 

leap, 
The  land   laugh   out   in  sudden  grass  and 

flowers." 

XI. 

TELL  me,  is  there  sovereign  cure 
For  heart-ache,  heart-ache,  — 

Cordial  quick  and  potion  sure, 
For  heart-ache,  heart-ache  ? 

Fret  thou  not.     If  all  else  fail 
For  heart-ache,  heart-ache, 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  19 

One  thing  surely  will  avail,  — 
That 's  heart-break,  heart-break ! 


XII. 

SOMETIMES  in  musings  that  grow  quick  and 

keen, 

The  door  I  beat  upon  all  wide  is  set, 
And  thou  thyself  and  I  thy  child  are  met, 
The  barrier  gone  that  late  did  intervene. 
And  then,  since  thou  hast  dwelt  removed, 

serene, 

Unknowing  of  this  world's  tumult  and  fret 
(Whose  pulse  and  heat  are  in   me  mortal 


I  seek  to  tell  thee  what  my  lot  has  seen. 
But  on  my  lips  the  hurrying  word  falls  null  ; 
For   thou  dost  seem,  great  marvel   in  thy 

gaze, 

To  look  on  somewhat  dread  and  beautiful. 
Its  knowledge   in  thine    eyes   my  babbling 

stays  : 


20  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

What  knowledge !  ah,  forgive  me,  senseless 

dull ! 
For  thou  with  Death  hast  walked  through 

wondrous  ways ! 


XIII. 

WHEN  from  this  distance  I  survey  the  past, 

I  marvel  not  at  joys  of  bygone  date. 

Nor  chide  I  them  that,  trivial,  they  seemed 

great, 

And  sped  the  restless  golden  hours  too  fast. 
Nay,  dear  as  flowers  that  have  brief  time  to 

last, 

My  lost  joys  edge  the  roadway  of  that  fate 
Through  whose  deep  mournful  vale  I  came 

but  late, 
And  gleam  unblotted  in  the  shadow  vast. 

I  chide  not  them  ;  but  often  as  I  turn 
My   eyes,  new-undeceived,  on   that   closed 
way, 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  21 

Here,  here,  and  there,  I  pageant  things  dis 
cern, 

That  still  at  pantomime  of  Sorrow  play,  — 

Once  idly  named  My  Griefs.  These  now  I 
spurn  ; 

Joy  have  I  known,  but  Grief  not  till  to-day. 


XIV. 

ON  the  day  of  earth  thy  last, 

Up  my  spirit  rose  aghast, 

For  there  came  —  a  legion  throng  — 

All  our  days  in  summer  long, 

All  the  days  so  gently  paced, 

All  the  days  with  favor  graced, 

All  the  beauteous  days  we  passed, 

Mindless  there  should  come  The  Last. 

All  the  days,  from  morn  till  noon, 
With  the  evening's  sweeter  boon,  — 
All  for  Love's  full  showing  meant, 
Yet  what  part  in  silence  spent ! 


22  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

Lips  to  speak,  —  yet  most  and  best 
In  the  heart  left  unexpressed  ! 
Lips  to  speak,  —  such  days  in  fee,  - 
Now  what  stores  should  voiced  be ! 

Still  my  spirit  stood  aghast, 
For  the  days,  as  they  drew  past, 
Strove  each  one  its  weight  to  cast 
On  that  frail  and  speechless  Last ! 


XV. 

THEY  bid  me  think,  who  seek  to  close  my 

wound, 
How  from  life's  storms  thou  hast  escaped  for 

aye. 

Their  wonted  words  unobvious  fire  convey  : 
For  then  I  see  thee,  in  my  heart's  profound, 
Stand    as    thou    stood'st  upon    life's   open 

ground, 

A  mettled  tenderness  and  braced  for  fray ; 
I  see  thee  whom  no  fortune  could  dismay, 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  23 

Or  make  thy  soul  aught  less  than  sweet  and 
sound. 

The  storms  of  life  what  noble  strength  shall 
meet 

And  grow  not  stronger  for  the  sharp  as 
sault  ? 

But  each  hour's  petty  spoilure  and  defeat 

Wear  out  the  heart  in  fruitless  sick  revolt ; 

So,  not  as  freed  from  strife  thy  state  I  greet, 

But  as  above  such  piteous  waste  exalt. 


XVI. 

TIME  takes  no  toll  of  thee, 
Age  spares  the  soul  of  thee. 

They  vex  thee  no  more, 

Besieging  thy  door ; 

Nor  without  nor  within 

Shall  they  vantage  win. 

The  long  years  are  fled  from  thee, 
The  winters  are  shed  from  thee, 


24  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

As  the  snows  retire 
For  Spring's  hidden  fire, 
And  the  gray  of  the  fields 
To  the  young  green  yields. 

The  long  years  descend  on  me, 
The  winters  bend  on  me 
Their  gathering  might, 
As  when  dwindles  the  light, 
And  the  gray  of  the  fields 
To  the  white  drift  yields. 

Now,  ill  or  well  with  me, 
Time  and  Age  dwell  with  me ; 
When  thou  wast  set  free, 
They  straightway  sought  me, 
Laying  siege  at  my  door, 
As  at  thine  before. 

What  dear  things  desert  to  thee, 
Youth  doth  revert  to  thee, 
While  I,  as  Fate  steers, 
Grow  toward  thy  years, 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  25 

That,  gone  out  of  mind, 
Thou  hast  left  behind ! 


XVII. 

How  dost  thou  live  in  that  Life  out  of 
thought,  unencumbered  and  blest, 

How  dost  thou  live,  now  immortal,  of  ulti 
mate  being  possessed,  — 

Nothing  that  turneth  to  rest,  yet  nothing 
that  knoweth  unrest  ? 

Here,  Life,  to  prolong  her  fond  stay,  with 
care  is  consumed  evermore  ; 

And  calls  a  brief  death-with-dreams,  the 
spoil  of  each  day  to  restore  : 

How   dost  thou   live   in   that  Life  without 

waste,  at  the  spirit's  core  ? 

* 

Nothing  the  keen  Hour  wounds,  and  noth 
ing  that  seeketh  recure  ; 


26  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

Nothing  of  veiled  response,  that  vexeth  and 

maketh  unsure  ; 
Nothing  that  beckons  the  soul,  to  deceive 

with  a  vanishing  lure. 

How  dost  thou  live  in  that  Life,  —  oh,  never 

the  shadow  of  ours 
(Shadow    itself,    that    Time   with    illusory 

heritage  dowers), 
But  constant,  supreme  of  all  real,   endued 

with  far  pleasures  and  powers  ! 

As  tones  transcending  our  sense,  yet  vibrat 
ing  true  in  their  height,  — 

As  the  element  finer  than  air,  that  conveyeth 
the  shaft  of  the  light,  — 

So  is  that  Life  unbetokened  by  sound,  and 
viewless  to  sight. 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  27 


XVIII. 

IF  I  might  have  from   thee   what  boon  I 

would, 

Or  thou  departing  might  to  me  resign 
Some  safeguard  virtue  wherein  thou  didst 

shine 
(No  more  required  by  thee   where   Peace 

doth  brood)  ; 

If  I  might  seek,  and  thou  bestow,  such  good, 
What  once  possessed  by  thee  should  now  be 

mine? 
Thy  courage  !  give  me  that  bright  proof  of 

thine, 

Arms  and  defense  of  thy  soft  womanhood  ! 
Thy  courage  grant  me  !  for  I  waver  here 
As  some  late  ill-fledged  bird  that,  left  behind 
Amid  the  wreckage  of  the  sylvan  year, 
Hath  not  sustaining  power  of  flight  to  find 
Where  its  gone  comrades  make  broad  sum 
mer  cheer, 
Nor  is  inured  to  cope  with  days  unkind. 


28  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

XIX. 

(A   VOICE    IX   A    DREAM.) 

SLEEP  soundly  through  the  long  light  night. 
The  day  will  come  too  soon,  too  soon. 
Across  the  halo-circled  moon 
Ever  some  frailest  cloud  takes  flight, 
Bathed  in  rare  light. 

Oh,  sleep! 

For  this  would  seem  that  form  to  limn, 
For  which,  weeping,  thine  eyes  grow  dim  — 

Grow  dim ! 

Sleep  soundly  through  the  long  still  night. 
The  day  will  come  too  soon,  too  soon. 
Beneath  thy  casement  falls  aswoon 
The  lonely  wind  that  sways  so  light 
Yon  pine's  bleak  height. 

Oh,  sleep ! 

For  this  would  seem  that  voice  late  stilled, 
For  which  thine  ear  hungers  unfilled  — • 

Unfilled  ! 


II. 

CLARIOR  E  TENEBRIS. 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  31 


XX. 

LOVE  for  the  lover  the  worn  world  renews : 
To   his   quick   ear    the   harshest  bird   that 

sings 
Hath  been  in  Heaven  and  learned  delicious 

things  ; 

To  his  quick  eye  the  flower  of  dullest  hues 
Reveals  it  late  was  bathed  in  beauty-dews 
That  have  been  filtered  from  ethereal 

springs. 
He   looks  —  he    listens  —  all    the    air    is 

wings, 
And  full  of  sighed-out  greetings  and  adieus ! 

Lovely  the  light  through  Love's  all-colored 

prism, 

But  sacred  Grief  can  also  wonders  work, 
Laving    the    world    from     an    o'erflowing 

chrism  : 
What  stars,   what  stars   shine  through   the 

wonted  mirk 


32  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

Where  night  and  dawn  verge  on  the  old 

abysm, 
And  in  dusk  streams  what  trembling  lustres 

lurk ! 

XXI. 

ME,  in  the  darkness  lying  faint  and  low, 
Grief  touched,  and  murmured,  "  I  will  give 

thee  sight, 

"Whereto  like  some  weak  dream   of  yester 
night 
Thy    former   vision's     casual    gleams    will 

show." 

Then  to  my  eyes,  that  used  with  tears  to  flow, 
Came  unreproving  the  slow  winter  light, 
Yet  wrought  them  to  behold  anew,  aright, 
The  miracle  of  smooth  night-fallen  snow : 

The  breath  from  morning  fires  —  the  tree- 
tops'  haze  — 

The  nest  lone-swinging  —  fair,  how  strangely 
fair! 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  33 

I  saw  it  all  in  swift  and  soft  amaze  :  — 
The  whiteness,  lo !   the  track  that  thou  didst 

wear; 

The  heavens'  musing  loveliness,  thy  gaze  ; 
Thy  voice,  the  deepened  silence  of  the  air. 


XXII. 

Now,  more  and  more  my  heritage  I  learn,  — 
Oh,  more  and  more  that  full  bequest  grows 

mine, 
Which    to   my   lone-left    being    fell    from 

thine,  — 

The  love  of  this  fair  earth ;  sight  to  discern 
In  nature's  face,  however  pale  or  stern, 
A  glory,  and  a  grace,  and  touch  benign,  — 
A   western   dawn    spring   from   our   day's 

decline, 
A  fervor  white  within  the  hoar-frost  burn. 

Dost  thou  not  put  me  in  possession  sure 
Of  thine  own  loving,  liberal  eye's  estate  ? 


34  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

Ay,  more,  —  when  some  fresh  scene  makes 
overture 

With  promise  of  revealment,  strange,  elate, 

Dost  thou  from  fount  of  heavenly  vision 
pure 

Endow  mine  eyes  with  more  than  sight  in 
nate? 


XXIII. 

Now  I  see,  that  careless  went 

In  a  dreamful  rich  content,  — 

Now  I  see  how  all  life  speeds 

Where  its  crafty  Hermes  leads, 

Into  silence,  into  shade, 

Downward,  downward,  downward  weighed 

By  a  stress  that  last  or  first 

Knows  nor  halt  nor  step  reversed. 

Can  it  be  that  I  alone 
Have  ignored  what  all  things  own, 
Heeded  not  the  common  word 
Every  listening  creature  heard,  — 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  35 

That  a  Forfeit  still  devours 

All  increase  of  sunbright  hours  ? 

Now  I  know,  'twixt  earth  and  sky 
Naught  but  breathes  a  conscious  sigh, 
And  a  sentient  look  has  caught, 
Answering  unspoken  thought ; 
Simplest  flower  by  forest-edge, 
Hanging  leaf  and  mirrored  sedge,  — 
All  in  pensive  musings  lost ; 
And  the  wood-bird's  note  is  crossed 
With  a  thrill  of  prescient  pain  ! 
Now  I  list,  and  not  in  vain, 
When  their  congener  they  greet 
With  sad  candor  kind  and  sweet :  — 

"  Hast  thou  but  so  late,  alas  ! 
Learned  that  thou  and  thine  must  pass  ? 
Never  was  the  truth  concealed  ; 
Quivering  lights  on  distant  field 
Often  sought  thine  eye  to  gain, 
And  the  wind  and  gentle  rain 
Strove  to  be  articulate, 
So  to  teach  impending  Fate. 


36  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

Voice  and  sign,  both  failed  alike 
Thy  deep-slumbering  sense  to  strike  ; 
All  monitions  were  despised 
Till  near  loss  thy  heart  surprised. 
Thou  and  thine  must  pass,  but  we 
Comradely  will  go  with  thee, 
We  and  ours,  with  tears  or  laughter  ! 
Every  Vanished  One  draws  after, 
As  the  lamp  that  rules  the  tides, 
As  a  hidden  magnet  guides, 
As  a  clew  within  a  maze, 
Leading  forth  on  unknown  ways ! 
Latest  Springtime,  morning-faced, 
Springs  outlived  pursues  in  haste  ; 
Reminiscent  Summer  hears 
Summer-calls  of  yester-years. 
Henceforth,  oft  as  thou  shalt  see 
One  of  ours,  though  least  it  be, 
Trampled  leaf  or  drooped  flower, 
Yielding  to  its  summoning  Hour, 
Thou  shalt  stand  fast  in  thy  place  — 
Gaze  —  and  for  a  moment's  space 
Feel  the  clew  more  tightly  run 
Between  thee  and  thy  Vanished  One  !  " 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  37 


XXIV. 

DAY  by  day  the  soul  of  things 

Up  its  countless  ladders  springs, 

Fleeting  back  to  whence  it  came,  — 

Inviolate,  ethereal  flame  ! 

I  have  pierced  its  changing  shapes, 

Coils  and  turnings,  deft  escapes  ! 

Up  yon  swaying  shaft  it  stole, 

Of  the  scarlet  gladiole. 

First,  the  lowest  bud  it  caught, 

And  with  fire  its  chalice  fraught ; 

Then,  with  aspiration  new, 

To  the  bloom  above  withdrew. 

Every  flower,  thus  bereft, 

Like  a  quenched  brand  was  left,  — 

Quickly  into  ashes  fell 

When  the  Genius  fled  its  cell ! 

On  the  morrow  it  will  rest 

In  the  topmost  blossom-crest ; 

Waving  thence  its  light  adieus, 

Some  unseen  way  it  pursues. 


38  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

Airy  pyramid  of  grass 
At  its  motion  yields  a  pass. 
Through  the  wind-loved  wheat  it  flows, 
Up  the  tufted  sedge-flower  goes, 
Scales  the  foxglove's  leaning  spire, 
Fans  the  wild  lobelia's  fire, 
Where  beside  the  pool  it  flashes ; 
And  the  slender  vervain's  lashes, 
By  the  climbing  spirit  swayed, 
All  their  purple  length  unbraid. 
Thus  the  soul  of  blooming  things 
Up  its  countless  ladders  springs. 


XXV. 

LAST  time  I  saw  thy  mortal  resting-place, 
'Twas  covered  all  with  a  smooth  weft  of 

snow, 
Wherethrough   some    stems   of    yet   sweet 

mint  did  show,  — 

Memorials  of  the  vanished  summer's  grace. 
There,  bending  low,  I  marked  a  chary  trace 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  39 

Of  footprints  delicate,  that  to  and  fro 
About  thy  quiet  mansionry  did  go,  — 
Swift  footprints  of  the  least  of  Fauna's  race. 

These  were  thy  winter  friendings,  faint  yet 
true, 

From  Nature,  whom  thou  lov'dst  so  true  and 
well. 

Spring  came,  and  soft  white  blossoms  round 
thee  blew 

From  that  wild  tree,  thy  shade  and  sentinel. 

Though  far  away,  its  flowering  prime  I 
knew, 

And  ofttimes  seemed  to  watch  those  blos 
soms  as  they  fell. 


Now  is  the  waking  time  of  earliest  bloom 
In   greening   meadow  grounds   that  south 
ward  slope, 

And  woods  that  from  the  south  sun  gather 
hope 


40  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

To    call   their    darlings   from    the    nether 

gloom. 
Faint  windflower   hues   the  hasting  clouds 

assume, 

And  transient  windows  on  the  azure  ope. 
Now  softly  gleam  the  stars  from  misty  cope, 
And  budded  trees  f oref eel  their  leafy  doom. 

Oh  seasonable,  sweet  awakening  — 

Oh  restless  joy  of  April  day  and  night ! 

1   to   the   earth    iny   griefful   heart   would 

fling; 

There,  lying  null  to  every  sound  and  sight, 
I    would    forget,  —  Gone    Lover    of    the 

Spring,  — 
Thy  birthday  now  returns,  but  not  thy  light ! 


XXVII. 

IN   thine    own    garden    (now   a    wild   un- 

trimmed) 
White   summer-hearted  lilies,  dashed  with 

rain, 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  41 

Once  bowed  their  regal  height,  still  sweet 
though  dimmed,  — 
A  fallen,  flower-fane, 
Not  to  be  reared  again  ! 

I  could  not  know  what  symbol  they  would 

form,  — 

Thou  beaten  down,   so  long  by  storm  op 
pressed, 

Then  wrapped  in  the  lone  calm  that  follows 
storm, 

Benignity  and  rest 

On  brows,  and  lips,  and  breast. 


XXVIII. 

LAST  summer  like  a  jewel  lies 
In  the  seal'd  casket  of  thine  eyes, 

With  all  lost  hours  and  rare. 
This  summer  greens  thy  footprint  o'er, 
And  grows  long  sward  about  thy  door, 

But  yieldeth  thee  no  share. 


42  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

Nor  first-seen  violet  hast  thou  seen, 
Nor  misty  veil  of  earliest  green 

Clothe  the  gray  forest-wall ; 
Thou  hast  not  probed  the  June's  rose  heart ; 
Ah,  if  in  all  thou  hast  no  part, 

Be  thou  a  part  in  all ! 

Speak  sometimes  by  a  flower's  soft  mouth, 
Or  gather  breath  from  the  mild  South 

Thy  soothings  to  repeat. 
Let  thy  voice  live  with  deepening  leaves, 
And  float  to  me,  on  quiet  eves, 

From  mystic  fields  of  wheat. 


XXIX. 

I  ONCE   besought   thee   that   thou   wouldst 

return, 

And,  spirit,  clothe  thyself  in  symboled  speech 
That,  though  unheard,  might  still  my  spirit 

reach, 
And    arm    to   vanquish    Death's    negation 

stern ; 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  43 

As,  when   spring's  half-blown  buds  should 

seem  to  yearn 
For   freedom    and    the    fostering    warmth 

beseech, 

Or  when  the  stars,  signalling  each  to  each, 
With   soft   access  of   light  should  seem  to 

burn, — 
That  I  in  these  thy  beckoning   soul   might 

see. 

Thine  answer  came,  sad  with  prevision  keen : 
Look  not  for  this,  but  think,  if  it  could  be, 
How  many  myriads  gone  had  comfort  seen. 
From  the  all-binding  law  not  one  goes  free  ; 
It  is  for  us  as  it  for  all  has  been. 


XXX. 

SOMETIMES  long   dwelling   on   thy  blessed 

face 

Imaged  within,  my  vision's  force  o'ershot, 
There  grows  a  void  in  which  I  see  thee  not, 
Nor  eyes,  nor  brows,  nor  smoothed  hair's 

silver  grace : 


44  THE  INVERTED  TORCH 

The  way  to  thee  I  can  no  longer  trace. 
So  might  some  traveler  bemoan  his  lot, 
When  all  at  once  thick  grass  and  herbage 

blot 
The  path  that  leads  him  through  some  vague 

waste  place. 

Nor  will  nor  strong  desire  my  sight   can 

clear, 

Yet  even  as  I  turn,  it  so  may  chance 
My  eyes  take  in  some  trivial  object  near  — 
Enough,  if   it   has   known   thy  touch,   thy 

glance, 
Enough! — it.  brings  thee  back,  unstrange 

and  dear, 

Thy   shape,    thy   face,    and  light  of   coun 
tenance  ! 

XXXI. 

ALL  passions  that  have  birth 
In  clay-knit  hearts  do  wear 
The  imprint  of  the  earth ; 
Time's  touch  thev  ill  can  bear, 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  45 

But  wavering  and  infirm 

They  have  their  mortal  term,  — 

Growth,  vigor,  and  decline, 

And  lapsed  do  not  renew  ; 

Kind  Love,  and  Joy  benign, 

And  Grief  is  of  them  too. 

Perverse  in  unrestraint, 

The  passion,  wild  at  prime, 

The  sooner  worn  and  faint 

Draws  to  its  folding-time. 

I  said  to  Grief,  "  Kef  rain, 
That  thou  mayst  still  remain, 

And,  full  of  eyes  to  see, 

And  voices  touched  with  power, 

Mayst  sit  and  speak  with  me 

In  Life's  far  evening  hour." 

Grief  to  my  gentle  prayer 
A  yielding  mind  did  lend, 
To  dwell  with  me,  and  share 
Whatever  Time  should  send. 
Grief  is  no  foe  to  Joy  — 
Good  part  of  Grief's  employ, 


46  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

My  spirit  to  beguile, 
And  show  how  passing  mirth 
Would  win  my  Lost  One's  smile, 
Were  she  yet  here  on  earth. 


XXXII. 

NOT  that  henceforth  no  more  they  share 
Our  once  divided  load  of  care, 
And  wake  because  we  cannot  sleep, 
Not  that  with  us  no  more  they  weep, 

Strains  on  the  longing  heart  so  much 
As  when,  at  first,  some  chariest  touch 
From  Life's  kind  angel,  Humor,  brings 
Faint  tremble  to  the  unused  strings. 

Oh  then,  might  we  but  see  arise 
The  dawn  of  mirth  in  their  sweet  eyes, 
While  their  full  laughter's  heavenly  sound 
Were  in  our  hungering  ears  unbound  ! 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  47 


XXXIII. 

How  long  ago,  how  long  ago,  0  Grief ! 

Twice  have  I  felt  spring  winds  arise  and 
blow, 

And  vernal  suns  with  quickening  fervor 
glow  ; 

Twice  have  I  seen  the  broad  noon-silent 
leaf, 

And  twice  have  marked  its  fall,  and  whiten 
ing  sheaf 

On  many  a  gusty  hillside  bowed  low. 

How  long  ago,  O  Grief,  how  long  ago  !  — 

How  brief  the  severing  space,  O  Love,  how 
brief  ! 

Saith  Grief  to  me,   "  Thou  canst  not  well 

recall 
Dear  looks,  dear  tones,  for  the  great  time 

between, 
That  like  a  crowding  mist  confuseth  all." 


48  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

Love  saith,  "  Be  these  as  present,  heard  and 
seen  !  " 

Love  chides  because  Grief's  eyelids  droop 
and  fall ; 

Then  Grief  grows  more  because  Love's  vis 
ion  is  so  ke?n. 


III. 

OPTIMI  CONSILIARII  MORTUI. 


XXXIV. 

How  on  the  moment  all  changes ! 

Quietude  midmost  the  throng, 
Peace  amid  tumult,  and  dissonance 

Charmed  into  vespertine  song ! 

Dew  on  the  dust  of  the  noontime, 
Spring  at  the  dead  of  the  year, 

Freedom  discerned  out  of  bondage, 
Grace  in  condition  austere  ! 

Praise  to  attemper  world's  censure, 
Monition  allaying  world's  praise, 

Shield  interposed  to  the  arrow, 

Instant  clear  path  through  the  maze ! 

How  on  the  moment  all  changes, 
Life  shaking  off  its  dull  trance ! 


52  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

(Thou  overwatching,  Beloved  One  ? 
Thou  overruling,  perchance  ?) 


XXXV. 

SUBTLE-SWIFT  recognizance 
Of  the  soul's  inheritance  ! 
Even  now  the  word  that  sped 
From  these  lips  thou  mightst  have  said  ; 
Turn  of  phrase  and  voiced  tone 
Were  as  they  had  been  thine  own  ; 
Oft  these  eyes  thy  glance  repeat 
"When  some  moving  scene  they  meet ; 
Yet  more  deeply  is  inwrought 
The  similitude  of  thought. 
So  of  thee  I  still  shall  learn, 
So  as  with  thy  sight  discern. 
Then,  if  on  my  further  way 
Thou  dost  keep    an  oversway, 
Though  the  earth  thy  shape  forego, 
Yet  from  thee  shall  influence  flow ; 
And  if  from  my  life  proceed 
Loving-kindness,  generous  deed, 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  53 

Here  I  own  that,  in  so  much, 

Still  the  world  shall  feel  thy  touch  ! 


XXXVI. 

I  LEFT  the  home  whence  thou  before  hadst 


One  moment  in  the  gliding  landscape  shone 
The  mornward   hill-verge,  winter-pale  and 

lone, 

Where  thou  for  dreamless  sleep  thy  cham 
ber  hast. 

Oh,  then,  I  saw  thee  as  I  saw  thee  last 
(All  fair,  desiring  nought,  and  envying  none), 
Save  now  above  thee  winter's  fleeces  strown, 
And  round  thee  calm,  oblivious  earth  up 
cast. 

I  left  the  home  whence  thou  hadst  passed 
before. 

The  swift  train  on  through  day  and  dark 
ness  hurled : 


54  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

But  yet  thy  hill  its  mournful  summit  bore 
'Mong  woods  and  heights  and  clouds  con 
fused  whirled,  — 

Thy  little  dome  of  earth  f orevermore 
Magnetic  centre  of  my  shattered  world ! 


XXXVII. 

How  often  have  I  watched  the  winter  moon 
Glide  on  through  cloudy  legions  chased  by 

flaw,  — 

Glide  on,  or  seem  to  glide,  in  lonely  awe, 
As  fain  to  vanish  from  earth's  ken  full  soon! 
But,  watching  still,  behold,  swift  lucent  boon 
Far-flashing    through   the   vapory   clefts    I 


Since  but   the  wind-borne  clouds   did   fast 

withdraw, 
Unchanged  that  tender  face  of  plenilune. 

And  so,  when  first  thyself  from  me  wast  reft, 
I  seemed  to  see  thee  far,  and  yet  more  far, 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  55 

Remove,  rare-glimpsed  through  Time's  wild- 
woven  weft 

Of  days  and  deeds  that  make  our  life  or 
mar. 

These,  cloud-like,  have  their  passing ;  thou 
art  left, 

In  my  night-heaven,  a  constant  beacon  star. 


XXXVIII. 

Two  powers  the  passive  giant  deep  control. 
The  one,  great  foe  to  mass  and  unity, 
Breaks  up  into  ten  thousand  seas  the  sea, 
And  wanton  drives  it  onward  to  no  goal. 
The  other,  as  with  bell  of  sphery  toll 
(Whether  the  wind  be  loosed  or  chaine'd 

be), 

To  tidal  orisons  draws  holily 
The  mighty  water  with  its  yearning  soul. 

To  the  wide  world  my  spirit  open  lies, 
As  lies  the  mobile  sea  beneath  the  wind, 


56  THE   INVERTED   TORCH 

That  evermore  its  veering  force  applies. 
But  thou,  beyond  all  and  through  all,  canst 

bind 

And  hold  me  still  in  fealty  to  the  skies, 
Swaying    with    heavenly    influence     undi- 

vined. 


XXXIX. 

"  Hearts  that  yet 

(Like  gems  in  darkness  issuing  rays 

They  've  treasured  from  the  sun  that 's  set) 

Beam  all  the  light  of  long-lost  days." 

WITHDRAWING  these  crystalline  drinkers  of 

sunshine  into  the  dark, 
Lo,  quenched  is  the  flame  of  rubies,  dead  is 

the  amethyst's  spark ! 
The  diamond  alone  exulteth  when  suddenly 

seized  by  the  night, 
The  diamond  alone  conserveth  its  hoard  of 

scintillant  light. 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  57 

Now,  O  my  Soul,  thou  art  tried  ;  and  how 

dost  thou  choose  to  be  known  ? 
Ingrate,  lost,  and  undone  ?  or  peer  of  the 

kingliest  stone, 
Lucid  by  day,  and  braving  the  dark  with  its 

luminous  freight  ? 
Hold  thou  the  glow  of  thy  Past,  and  shine 

in  the  glooming  of  Fate. 


XL. 

SOME  words  of  thine  when  words  of  thine 

were  few 

And  priceless  dear,  upwafted  with  a  sigh, 
Do  ever  greaten  to  my  mind's  fixed  eye, 
As  legend  on  a  magic  door  wherethrough 
Wide-wandering  pilgrims  pass,  and  gain  the 

clue. 
Thou  saidst :   God  set  my  heart  no  creed, 

but  I 
In  goodwill  towards  His  world  have  lived 

—  and  die. 
Then  thy  far  thought  in  silence  didst  pursue. 


58  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

That  hour  thy  visioned  word  laid  stress  on 
me 

To  let  all  watchwords  pass  save  only  one 

(Howe'er  confused  and  vexed  these  world- 
cries  be)  : 

Goodwill,  Goodwill,  Goodwill  shall  hence 
forth  run 

Through  thought  and  deed.  It  were  unfaith 
to  thee 

To  stoop  with  malison  for  malison. 


XLI. 

Begin  the  morning  by  saying  to  thyself,  I  shall  meet  with 
the  busybody,  the  ungrateful,  arrogant,  deceitful,  envious, 
unsocial.  All  these  things  happen  to  them  by  reason  of  their 
ignorance  of  what  is  good  and  evil.  But  I,  who  have  seen  the 
nature  of  the  good  that  it  is  beautiful,  and  of  the  bad  that  it 
is  ugly,  and  the  nature  of  him  who  does  wrong,  that  it  is  akin 
to  me,  ...  I  can  neither  be  injured  by  any  of  them,  for  no 
one  can  fix  on  me  what  is  ugly,  nor  can  I  be  angry  with  my 
kinsman  nor  hate  him.  Antoninus. 

DEAREST  lips  that  Time  hath  stilled, 
In  all  gracious  wisdom  skilled, 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  59 

Once  those  clement  words  brought  home 
From  the  purple  of  old  Rome. 

Though  tho  morning  give  thee  joy, 
Thou  shalt  meet  with  much  annoy 
Ere  the  evening  mild  and  gray 
Comes  to  shrive  the  erring  day. 
Thou  shalt  meet  with  those  who  wear 
Face,  not  heart,  of  Friendship  fair. 
Thou  shalt  meet  with  those  whose  praise 
Tasteless  burden  on  thee  lays. 
Thou  shalt  suffer  wanton  blame, 
All  unweeting  whence  it  came  : 
Some  shall  envy  thee,  the  while 
Some  thy  well-content  revile  ; 
Some  shall  hate,  for  this  alone,  — 
That  thy  bounty  they  have  known  ! 
Random  judgments  thrown  abroad, 
Justice  scorned,  and  Faith  outlawed, 
Heartless  laughter  of  no  mirth, 
Lack  of  love,  and  Pity's  dearth, 
Thou  shalt  meet,  —  or  thou,  or  thine 
Dear  by  human  bond  divine. 


60  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

Thou  shalt  see  the  boastful  gain 
What  meek  Worth  shall  seek  in  vain. 
Thriftless  running  to  and  fro 
Shall  for  zeal  and  service  show. 
Foolish  ones  shall  sit  in  state 
While  the  wise  unplaced  shall  wait. 

These  are  so,  as  thou  shalt  see, 
Not  too  much  perturbed  be,  — 
Nay,  for  this  were  harm's  increase,  — 
In  thy  bosom  nestle  Peace ! 
These  are  so  from  blinded  sight ; 
If  thine  eye  have  more  of  light, 
Thankful,  keep  within  the  ray 
Thrown  upon  thy  fairer  way,  — 
Thankful  that  no  God  commands 
Thou  go  forth  with  scourging  hands. 


XLII. 

HADST  thou  not  prescience  of  my  days  to  be 
When   thine   own   day  should    sink    below 
Life's  west,  — 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  61 

That  now  I  seem  to  fare  on  bidden  quest, 
Whose  road  and  every  chance  were  known 

to  thee  ? 

Did  not  thy  loving  forecast  circle  me  ? 
A  look  of  thine  caught  back  arms  strong  my 

breast, 

Thy  word,  Memory's  inner-templed  guest, 
Springs  up,  from  slackening  doubt  and  fear 

to  free. 

Thus  one  in  midst  of  deedful  times  may 
turn 

The  leaves  of  some  old  sacred  book,  and 
start, 

Finding  foreshadowed  there  the  thought 
that  burns,  — 

The  act  that  burning  thought  coins  from  the 
heart. 

Thus  one  a  phosphor  -  writing  may  dis 
cern  — 

But  not  till  daylight  utterly  depart. 


62  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

XUII. 

IN  little  years,  from  dreams  of  evil  guise 

That  trouble  childhood's  sleep,  I  oft  would 
wake 

Calling  on  one  dear  name  whose  might  could 
break 

The  charm  that  heavy  lay  upon  my  eyes. 

Then,  quickly  won  by  thy  soft-breathed  re 
plies, 

Came  Peace,  as  stilly  as  the  falling  flake, 

And  Sleep  within  his  blissful  arms  would 
take 

And  bear  me  to  the  kiss  of  morning  skies. 

Still,  still,  awaking  from  some  pained  dream, 

I  call  thy  name  —  but  with  what  other 
cheer ! 

Now  beats  my  heart  beneath  this  touch  ex 
treme 

As  slow  with  grief  as  once  how  fast  with 
fear! 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  63 

Yet  oft  it  seems  (ah,  might  it  more  than 

seem !) 
Thou  and  thy  shielding  comfort  still  are  near. 


XLIV. 

I  COME  to  a  certain  realm  in  the  Past 
Lovely  and  lonely,  and  overcast,  — 
Sunlight  and  shadow,  barren  and  bloom, 
All  overcast  with  a  wondrous  clear  gloom  ! 

There  is  the  morning  blossom  half  blind 
With  dew  that  the  sun  has  yet  to  find  ; 
There  is  the  magical  flower  once  seen,  — 
Once  and  no  more,  by  the  wood-aisle  green  ; 
And  there  is  the  bird,  unnamed,  tliat  sings 
With  a  melody  caught  from  bubbling  springs. 

There  are  the  Maytime  orchard  trees 
That  palace  a  myriad  murmuring  bees  ; 
There  are  the  beechen  vistas  deep 
That  forever  the  gold  of  Autumn  keep  ; 


64  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

While  the  journeying  river,  slim  and  bright, 
Is  merged  afar  in  the  hazy  light. 

There,  in  the  hour  that  wakens  the  moth, 

Up  from  the  new-fallen  harvest  swath, 

Languid  sweetnesses  wander,  and  die  ; 

In  the  thrilling  calm  of  the  deepened  sky,  — 

There  is  the  star  that  seems  to  hear 

The  song  on  the  threshold,  to  childhood  dear. 

Rarely  I  come  to  this  realm  in  the  past 
All  with  a  clear  gloom  overcast, 
For  I  too  sorrowful-rich  am  grown, 
So  sweet  an  estate  possessing  alone. 
Lovely  and  lonely,  unshared,  it  lies,  — 
Save  Memory  dwells  with  thee,  too,  in  the 
skies. 


XLV. 

Two  words,  upon  the  lips  grown  obsolete, 
Are  folded  in  the  heart ;  one  stands  for  thee, 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  65 

And  one,  close-linked  with  thine   in  music 

sweet, 

For  sheltering  love  long-lost  to  thee  and  me. 
Tell  all  that  I  would  tell  if  thou  hast  found 
That  spirit  lit  with  hope  and  touched  with 

mirth.  — 
Oh   hearken,   both    (where'er    in    Heaven's 

round) 
To  those  dear  guardian   names  I  miss   on 

earth ! 


XLVI. 

IN  thy  withdrawal  from  the  near  and  known, 
Past  any  touch  of  hands,  past   sight,  past 

call, 

Thrice  have  I  lost  thee,  —  once  my  child 
hood's  all, 

When  thou  and  I  it  seemed  did  wait  alone 
On  the  green  curve  of  earth  close  to  God's 

throne, 
And  hearken  well  what  secrets  He  let  fall 


66  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

About  this  lower  kingdom's  great  and  small, 
In  whisper  and  by  sign  now  fainter  grown. 
Again  I  lose  thee,  Voice  of  Courage  clear, 
Thou  Soul  of  Youth  that  didst  my  youth  up- 

stay ! 

And  yet  again  I  lose  thee,  —  loss  most  dear  ! 
For  now,  when  I  before  thee  hoped  to  lay 
Some  fruitage  of  the  slow  responsive  year, 
Thou,  tarrying  not,  art  gone  the  Lonely  Way. 


XL  VII. 

THOU  wast  a  confidant,  a  refuge,  still, 

As  when  thy  kisses  balmed  a  childish  hurt ; 

A  heartener  of  baffled  lone  desert, 

Of   strength   too  far   essayed,  of   faltering 

will; 

But  see,  I  can  forego  thy  tender  skill, 
All-comforting,  all-healing,  as  thou  wert ; 
I  can  forego  the  shield  that  did  avert 
The  ceaseless  wear,  the  thrusts  that  sudden 

kill;  — 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  67 

I  can  forego  thee  in  such  bitter  harms 
As  may  along  my  journey  ambushed,  lie, 
By  thought  that  thou  art  freed  from  sharp 

alarms 

And  taste  of  troublous  days.  But  how  shall  I 
Not  speak,  —  not  cast  myself  into  thine  arms, 
Should  ever  some  quick  joy  my  cup  fill  high  ? 

XLVIII. 

WHEN  fair  days  fall  and  fruiting  hopes  re- 

pay 

My  care  (not  thee,  who  first  and  most  gave 

cheer), 

Unfilled  by  all,  my  heart  desires  thee  near  — 
Nay,  dreams  that  thou  the  prosperous  hour 

dost  sway ! 
But  when  there  comes  a  season  gaunt  and 

gray, 
Winds  pierce,  and  the  mask'd  heaven  looks 

austere, 

I  pray  that  thou  art  very  far  from  here,  — 
Ay,  in  safe  Paradise  rapt  far  away. 


68  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

Yet  sometimes   a   new  light    unblinds    my 

eyes: 

Even  if  thou  my  joys  and  sorrows  knew, 
Perchance  to  thee  they  would  show  other 
wise, 

Or  unregarded  sink  beneath  thy  view. 
Could  I  to  thine  imagined  height  once  rise, 
What  earthly  pain  or  pleasure  could  subdue  ? 


XLIX. 

IT  is  the  lover's  vaunt  that  he  transcends 
All  who  have  loved,  or  who  in  love  excel ; 
And  if  his  tongue  be  rich-endowed,  to  tell 
His   love's   esteem,    a  world   of   words   he 

spends. 

My  broken  song  for  no  such  meed  contends. 
Nor  dares  my  love  to  claim  its  parallel 
In    thine ;    but    on    thy    love    for    me    I 

dwell,  — 
Thine  peerless,  —  met  no   more   until   life 

ends. 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  69 

Oh,  mother-love,  from  childhood  unexplored, 
Oh,  mother-love,  all  boundless  in  pure  height ! 
(So  to  the  bird  a  sun-filled  heaven  un soared, 
Tenderly  overlies  its  daily  flight.) 
Lost   Plenitude!  —  Be   thou   not   lost,   but 

stored 
Where  I  shall  find  thee  after  one  strange 

night. 


OR  is   that  love,  as   once,  still   round   me 

poured, 

Unknown  because  this  dense  mortality 
With  doubt  or  stern  denial  houses  me  ? 
As   though  the  ambient   daylight  were  ig 
nored 
By   one   whose   way    of   vision   had    been 

scored,  — 

As  bird,  that  cannot  past  its  cage-eaves  see, 
Might  well  forget  that  unto  pinions  free 
Vast  shining  tracts  the  morning  skies  afford. 


70  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

Yet  moments  there  have  been  (too  rare  they 
fall !) 

When  I,  though  blind  and  captive  here, 
have  spurned 

The  darkness,  and  have  shaken  off  the 
thrall. 

And  then,  where'er  my  quickened  spirit 
turned, 

The  light  would  seem  as  love  diffused 
tlirough  all, 

The  love  seemed  thou  about  to  be  dis 
cerned. 

LI. 

WHENCE  this  revelation  wide, 
Lucid  as  the  morning  tide, 
Whereby  thou  art  seen  more  clear 
Than  in  mortal  habit  here  ? 
Now  thy  looks  grow  permanent, 
As  a  star's  glance  earthward  bent, 
Ever  there,  though  late  descried, 
Ever  there,  and  patient-eyed. 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  71 

Words  of  thine,  unhearkened  long, 
Come  as  strains  of  Orphic  song, 
Or,  as  Corybantic  flute 
Deep-pervading,  never  mute, 
Wake  to  courage  and  to  trust, 
Bid  be  just  were  all  unjust. 
Ah,  that  thou  art  so  revealed 
When  between  us  speech  is  sealed  ! 


LII. 

FOREGONE    to   sight,   to    every   sense    de 
nied, 

Voiceless,  and  vanished,  nevermore  to  fill 
Thy  lacking  place,  —  art  thou  not  human 

still, 

With  only  human  sorrow  cast  aside  ? 
Or  now,  that  round  me  draws  a  novel  tide 
Of  urgent  days  that  sway  me  as  they  will, 
Must  I  to  thee  grow  strange,  and  stranger, 

till 
From  all  thou  knewest  I  seem  disallied  ? 


72  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

Look  down  with  thine  old  tender,  large  re 
gard, 

When  my  soul  wavers  from    its  clear   de 
sign. 

As  once  thou  wouldst  reprove,  and  afterward 
Smile  on  thy  child,  half-humorous,  benign, 
Now  even  so  (although  in  heaven  starred), 
Chide  smilingly  each  human  lapse  of  mine. 


IV. 
CCELUM  NON  ANIMUM  MUTANT. 


LHL 

IF  still  they  live,  whom  touch  nor  sight 
Nor  any  subtlest  sense  can  prove, 
Though  dwelling  past  our  day  and  night, 
At  farthest  star's  remove,  — 

Oh,  not  because  these  skies  they  change 

For  upper  deeps  of  sky  unknown, 

Shall   that   which   made   them   ours   grow 

strange, 
For  spirit  holds  its  own  ; 

Whether  it  pace  this  earth  around, 
Or  cross,  with  printless,  buoyant  feet, 
The  unreverberant  Profound 

That  hath  no  name  nor  mete  ! 


76  THE  INVERTED    TORCH 


LIV. 

"  God  must  be  glad  one  loves  his  world  so  much. 
I  can  give  news  of  earth  to  all  the  dead 
Who  ask  me." 

HATH  God  new  realms  of  lovely  life  for  thee 
In  some  white  star,  the  soul  of  eve  or  morn, 
Whose  full  and  throbbing  lustre  makes  for 
lorn 

Us  who  not  yet  across  the  void  shall  flee  ? 
But  why  remote  should  now  thy  pleasures  be, 
When  yet  thy  joy  in  nature  was  unworn, 
Wrhether  forth  shot  the  blade  of  tender  corn, 
Or  the  wild  tempest   scourged   the  winter 
tree? 

Seeker  and  seer  of  beauty  in  each  phase 
Of  day  or  year  through  which  the  dear  earth 

runs, 

Far  be  the  Heaven  of  change-desiring  ones, 
Be  thine  not  so ;  but  love  thou  still  to  gaze 
On   morning   dews   that  wed  with   golden 

suns, 
And  happy  deaths  of  stainless  summer  days. 


THE  INVERTED  TORCH  77 


LV. 

THOU   hadst  a  joy  in   storms   that  sealike 

surge, 

A  joy  in  tumult-stirring  winds  that  fare 
Through  hollow  heaven  and  through  forests 

bare, 

A  joy  in  the  red  lightning's  lustral  scourge. 
Hence,  to  my  ear  comes  no  vague  mournful 

dirge 
In  the  sweet  tremblings  of  this  wind-harp 

rare  — 

Like  thine,  this  dauntless  gentle  voice  of  air 
Bids   follow,    follow   to   thought's    farthest 

verge  ! 

Now  God  hath  made  thy  spirit  faint  and 

strange, 
If  thou   thy  choice  of  heavenly  seats  dost 

find 
Where  never  a  brave  storm  the  plains  may 

range, 
And  in  its  course  wild  minstrelsy  unbind ; 


78  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

But   if    thine   olden   pleasure    knows    not 

change, 
How  friendly  breathes  on  me   this  wintry 

wind! 


LVI. 

IN   those   last   splendor  -  freighted   autumn 

days 

Thou  murmuredst,  leaning  at  the  open  door, 
The  world,  how  beautiful!  —  but  mine  no 

more. 
Veiled,  then,  thy  dark  eyes'  long-foregoing 

gaze. 
But  when  the  year's  night  had  shut  down 

their  rays, 
Thy  words  deep   in  my  heart   a   pathway 

wore  — 
The  world,  thy  world,  that  brought  thee  so 

rich  store,  — 
Thy  lost  world !  —  then  not  mine  to  love,  to 

praise ! 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  79 

Long  time  its  voices  nothing  said  to  me, 
Its   wheeling    lights    across    blank   reaches 

shone, 
Because  I  deemed  thou  couldst  not  hear  nor 

see. 

At  last  a  slender  flame  of  hope  was  blown, 
That  God  takes  not  his  much-loved  world 

from  thee, 

But  still  thou  lov'st  it,  though  in  ways  un 
known. 


LVIL 

ONCE,  looking  on  the  grass  in  summer  deep, 
That,  myriad  waving   at   the  wind's   light 

will, 
Vouchsafes    no    murmur,    but    is    voiceless 

still, 
Thou  saidst,  A  secret   the  sly  grass-blades 

keep  ! 
And  thou  wouldst  marvel  how  a  flower  doth 

sleep, 
Folding  its  dainties  from  the  evening  chill, 


80  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

And    how   a   tendriled   summer   vine    has 

skill 
Sunward  by  one  same  spiral  path  to  creep. 

Now  if  the  petals  of  a  flower  I  part, 
Or  gaze  into  the  green  depths  of  a  tree, 
A  trembling  sense  will  glide  into  my  heart, 
To  tell  me,  though  I  am  too  dull  to  see, 
In  all  these  gentler  subtleties  thou  art, 
And  all  that  nature  is,  is  known  to  thee. 

LVIII. 

THOUGH  Life's  tide  ebbed  or  flowed  beneath 

my  eyes, 

Its  ebb  had  but  a  legend's  force  for  me 
Until  the  refluent  wave  made  prize  of  thee. 
Now  thoughts  of  Death  forever  in  me  rise, 
But  in  no  strange,  in  no  forbidding  guise ; 
So  might  some  stream  have  prescience  of 

the  sea, 

So  forecast  of  fruition  thrill  some  tree 
Rolling  white-billowed    bloom  on  Maytime 

skies. 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  81 

As  foldwise  the  great  sea  awaits  the  stream, 
As  autumn  is  the  green  tree's  toiled-f  or  goal, 
So  is  it  peace  to  me,  not  strife,  to  deem 
Death  grows  with  all  my  days  past  all  con 
trol, 

And  nearer  brings  oblivion  —  or  dream  — 
Or  boon  awakening  of  the  lifted  soul ! 


LIX. 

ONCE  I  sat  down  beside  a  seaward  stream ; 
Beneath  the  summer  light's  enchanted  wand 
The  home -bound  water,  the  green  marge 

beyond, 
The    long-descending    pastured    hills,    did 

seem 

As  some  far  bourne  within  Elysian  dream, 
Where   souls,  new-loosed  from  their  most 

grievous  bond, 

Between  desireful  hope  and  tarriance  fond 
Might   wait   till    beckoned   on   to   joy   su 
preme. 


82  THE  INVERTED    TORCH 

"With  this  came  thoughts  of  thee  in  Paradise. 

No  more  the  bright  home-drawing  flood  se 
rene, 

No  more  the  lapsing  hills,  the  happy  skies 

As  dome  of  light,  and  stream,  and  hill  were 
seen, 

But  as  if  thou,  wide-browed,  with  blessing 
eyes 

Subliming,  softening  all,  didst  through  them 
lean. 

LX. 

OFT  will  this  thought  my  current  day  ar 
rest  : 

If  from  the  round  of  being  thou  art  shed, 
Already  am  I  too  among  the  dead, 
And  but  in  semblant  life,  not  real,  drest,  — 
Semblant,  the  heart's  strange  knocking  at 

the  breast, 

This  sight  with  crowding  images  o'erfed, 
This    breath  outgoing,  and   the  vain  word 

sped, 
This  brain  with  fictile  labor  still  oppressed. 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  83 

Swift  then  another  thought  this  thought  pur 
sues  : 

But  I  yet  live  —  I  live  —  and  thou  livest ! 
Of  sovereign  being  nothing  shall  I  lose, 
Nor  hast  thou  lost,  Life's  close  eternal  guest, 
Who  after  wandering  gatherest  up  the  clues, 
While  I  grope  many  ways  in  obscure  quest. 


LXI. 

SOME  days  there  were  whose  dawns  but  lit 

The  voidness  of  an  Infinite 

That  draws  all  life,  yet  life  knew  not, 

When  quest  I  made. 

Some  days  there  were  whose  nights  forgot, 
Or  scorned,  the  ignorant  stars  above, 
Pleaders  inane  for  life  and  love  — 

Since  these  could  fade ! 

From  out  that  Void  how  hollow  rung 
What  seers  have  breathed  and  bards  have 
sung, 


84  THE   INVERTED    TORCH 

Attesting  Immortality. 

My  own  heart's  cheer 
In  mocking  strain  returned  to  me ; 
So  lonely  need  might  send  a  call, 
And,  echo  from  the  mountain  wall, 

Sole  answer  hear. 


LXH. 

THEN  speaking,  this  had  been  my  cry : 
"  I  have  deceived  been  !     Now  I 
Nor  currency  nor  credit  give 

The  heart's  brave  tale. 
Not  anywhere  they  longer  live, 
When  once  the  earth  has  claimed  its  kin, 
And  from  the  haunts  where  they  have  been 

Their  faces  fail." 


But,  after-days,  this  voice  arose  : 
44  Since  the  Event  no  mortal  knows, 
But  Yea  or  Nay  may  still  advance, 
Nor  pierce  veiled  fate. 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  85 

To  give  the  lie,  thou  liest  perchance ! 
Foster  not  fear  but  hope  the  while, 
And,  closed  in  human  life's  defile, 
Solution  wait." 


LXIII. 

How  dare  we  say,  who  live  by  breath, 
They  are  no  more,  who  have   closed  with 

Death, 

Faced  that  great  total  Dread  of  man, 
Like  some  brave,  mist-surrounded  van 
Their  victory  in  the  formless  blank 
Unsighted  by  the  hereward  rank  ! 

They  are  no  more  ?     That  word  is  ours, 
Whose  hunted  being  shrinks  and  cowers, 
Who  turn  our  toil,  and  wind  with  craft, 
To  parry  still  the  eventual  shaft. 
We  whom  death-perils  each  way  hem  — 
Perchance  we  are  no  more  to  them ! 


86  THE  INVERTED  TORCH 

Though  it  may  be  some  guard  they  keep 
Above  this  dream-beleagured  sleep 
That  they  once  deemed,  and  we  still  deem, 
Life,  not  its  faint-divining  dream,  — 
We  are  no  more,  —  our  now  and  here 
Naught  to  those  wakened  spirits  clear. 

Sometimes  wherever  I  may  go, 

Unto  my  heart  thou  livest  so, 

I  marvel  if  the  forms  I  meet, 

The  speech  I  hear,  be  Time's  deceit  — 

If  viewlessness  and  silence  screen 

More  life  than  can  be  heard  and  seen ! 

Thou  against  all  this  shadow-world  ! 
Thou  between  whom  and  me  were  hurled 
Figments  that  mourning  Fancy  rears  — 
Thou  against  all  that  thus  appears  — 
Thou,  and  the  Life  to  be,  'gainst  all 
I  dream  and  fear,  and  Life  miscall! 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  87 


LXIV. 

I  SPEAK  what  springeth  in  my  soul  to-day : 

Thanks  be  that  man  believes  his  life  hath 
root 

(However  perish  mortal  flower  and  fruit) 

So  deep  that  thither  nothing  ill  makes  way. 

Thanks  for  belief-in-life,  Life's  one  great 
stay, 

Though  wandering  voices  still  faith's  sub 
stance  moot, 

And  even  though  should  end  the  dear  pur 
suit 

Where,  ending  all,  none  heareth  the  dread 
Nay. 

I  utter  this,  remembering  a  dead  space 

In  which  Death,  Death,  and  Death  alone 

forth  stood, 

A  legend  written  on  the  whole  world's  face, 
In  characters  of  monstrous  certitude 


88  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

It  seemed  no  time  nor  power  could  erase ; 
Yet  something  in  my  soul   some   faith  re 
newed. 


LXV. 

I  COULD  not  bear  thy  name  should  have  no 

part 
In  speech  that  human  thought  and  impulse 

frame ; 

And  so  I  still  would  press  its  fading  claim, 
With  more  of  zeal  than  of  strategic  art. 
Then  on  my  lips  would  come  with  passioned 

start 

Its  syllables  that  once  so  native  came, 
And  passed,  undwelt  on.    Now  thy  precious 

name 
I  can  contain  in  quiet  in  my  heart. 

I  seek  not  now  so  much,  with  instant  pain, 
To  make  thee  loved  by  those  who  knew  not 
thee. 


THE  INVERTED  TORCH  89 

By  stranger's  love  and  praise  what  couldst 

thou  gain? 

It  shall  suffice  that  there  remains  for  me 
Thy  light,  as  in  some  forested  deep  fane 
Filled  with  sweet  breath  and  sound  from 

many  a  tree. 


LXVI. 

OH,  that  thou  hadst  but  crossed  some  ut 
most  seas 

Round  strange  shores  beating,  in  unmapped 
degrees ! 

Then  might  I  trust  to  speeding  sails,  and 
cleave 

The  deep  ways  of  the  sea  through  day  and 
eve, 

And  all  the  circling  year,  till  I  should 
stand 

Some  morning  at  the  prow,  and  greet  Thy 
Land. 


90  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

Oh,  that  thou  hadst   thy  dwelling,  though 

most  far, 
Within    some    one    all  -  conscious  -  glowing 

star. 
Then  might  I  waste  towards  thee,  as  on  lone 

height, 
When  all  are  gone,  goes  out  the  camp-fire's 

light  — 
Or   as    gray    Hesper    from    the    hills    was 

borne, 
After  ten  thousand  vigil-nights  forlorn  ! 

Oh,  that  most  surely  thou  wert  Here  or 
There,  - 

Some  certain  goal  whither  my  thought  might 
fare! 

Oh,  that  from  out  the  vague,  formless  Im 
mense 

Came  but  one  signal  palpable  to  sense, 

Foreshowing  by  what  path  my  soul  shall 
start, 

When  it  goes  forth  to  find  thee  where  thou 
art! 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH.  91 

LXVII. 

I  KNOW  not  why  henceforward  I  should  fear, 
Once  having  felt  the  master-stroke  of  fate. 
The  waif  upon  some  low  reef  desolate 
Dreads  not  to  quit  his  tide-lapped  rock  and 

steer 

His  rude-framed  raft  over  the  waters  drear, 
Where  yet  unseen  the  mainland  may  await, 
Or  passing  bark  shall  succor  his  estate. 
So  move  I  on,  and  with  this  certain  cheer : 
That  thou  no  more  art  torn  whate'er  my 

lot,- 

Though  round  this  life,  once  thy  solicitude, 
Were  tightening  now  the  clues  of  Time's 

last  plot. 
Ay,  thou  mightst  smile  though  near  to  death 

I  stood, 
Thou   knowing  what  death  is,  I   knowing 

not, — 
A  wanderer  forth  from  shores  with  wreckage 

strewed. 


92  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 


LXVIII. 

"  UPON    the    earth    my    child !  "  —  "  My 

mother,  thou !  " 
Such  greetings  when  shall  be  —  and  where, 

and  how  ? 
In  these   known  accents   or  in   some   new 

tongue 
More  sweet  than  any  notes  our  wood-birds 

sung? 

Or,  when  in  haven  glides  my  bark  distressed, 
Wilt  hush  all  words  of  mine  with  one  word 

"  Rest !  " 

So  at  the  first  my  soul  shall  merely  sleep, 
Full  weary  with  the  troubles  of  the  Deep  ? 


LXIX. 

OFT  have  I  wakened  ere  the  spring  of  day, 
And  from  my  window  looking  forth  have 
found 


THE  INVERTED   TORCH  93 

All    dim    and    strange    the    long  -  familiar 

ground. 

But  soon  I  saw  the  mist  glide  slow  away, 
And  leave  the  hills  in  wonted  green  array, 
While  from  the  stream-sides  and  the  fields 

around 

Rose  many  a  pensive  day-entreating  sound, 
And  the  deep-breasted  woodlands  seemed  to 

pray. 

Will  it  be  even  so  when  first  we  wake 
Beyond  the  Night  in  which  are  merged  all 

nights,  — 

The  soul  sleep-heavy  and  forlorn  will  ache, 
Deeming   herself   midst   alien   sounds   and 

sights  ? 
Then  will   the  gradual  Day  with  comfort 

break 
Along  the  old  deeps  of  being,  the  old  heights  ? 


94  THE  INVERTED   TORCH 

LXX. 

THREADING  a  darksome  passage  all  alone, 
The  taper's  flame,  by  envious  current  blown, 
Crouched  low,  and  eddied  round,  as  in  af 
fright. 

So  challenged  by  the  vast  and  hostile  night, 
Then  down  I  held  the  taper ;  —  swift  and 

fain 
Up  climbed  the  lovely  flower  of  light  again ! 

Thou  Kindler  of  the  spark  of  life  divine, 
Be  henceforth  the  Inverted  Torch  a  sign 
That,  though  the  flame  beloved  thou  dost 

depress, 

Thou  wilt  not  speed  it  into  nothingness  ; 
But  out  of  nether  gloom  wilt  reinspire, 
And  homeward  lift  the  keen  empyreal  fire ! 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


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